


Lost Dogs: If Found, Please Call Pepper Potts.

by lifelesslyndsey



Series: How To Teach An Old Dog New Tricks [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Business Drunk, F/M, People can be superficial, Tony and Darcy are no exception, oh god the ground is hedgehogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/lifelesslyndsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Darcy get Business Drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just another installment in the Sit Stay Roll Over verse, in which Tony and Darcy get to know eachother a little better.

 

**Lost Dog, If Found Please Call Pepper Potts**

 

“Oooh eight.” Tony let his sunglasses drop down his nose, and eyed the leggy blonde passing by the cafe. “Eight and a half,” he adjusted, after seeing the back.

 

Darcy snorted before leaning over to slide his glasses back up his face. “You’re too easy. She looks like she’d break in half if you tried to bend her over a table. Plus, three words; butterfly foot tattoo. Six.” She pointed to a brunette passing by, sloshing tea over the table. “That’s an eight. She was probably a seven; that nose jobs good work. Plus she looks like she enjoys the occasional cupcake, and I admire that in a person.”

 

Tony hummed. “I like chubby thighs,” he offered without really thinking. He could feel Darcy staring at him. “What? I can appreciate a little meat too.”

 

“Nothing, nothing,” Darcy acceded, raising her hands like she was calming a wild animal. “Just...Pepper’s so....so thin.”

 

“She’s willowy,” Tony argued, defensively. “Plus she’s not....it wasn’t just physical with her I...cared about her. But yeah, typically I go for women with a little more to them.”

 

“Hey, I wasn’t knocking Pep. She’s beautiful in like...a super classy way.  She’s gorgeous, but kind of in an untouchable way. Like...I could never be with a girl like that. I’d worry about fucking her all up. LIke...painting over a Picaso, you know?”

 

Tony snorted because...yeah. He knew. “I know. It’s probably part of what caused our...untimely falling out. Pepper was always too good for me.”

 

“That’s not what I said,” Darcy said, censure in her voice. “I meant that people like her...They deserve someone clean. No baggage. No track record. I wasn’t saying she was too good for you---”

 

“No, I know.” Tony cut her off just to put her out of her misery. “Pepper deserves someone who’s going to put her first.”

 

Darcy gave him a sad looking smile. “I think everyone deserves that Tony.”

 

Ignoring the look, ignoring the pitying tone, Tony took a drink from his own tea, and returned his eyes to sidewalk. “Oh, oh, knock-out Ginger, three-o’clock.”

 

“Nine,” Darcy said, in a firm tone that brokered no room for argument. “Damn, I love freckles. I just want to sit on her face.”

 

Tony snorted into his drink.”Wow, Lewis. Way to keep it classy.”

 

“No,” Darcy said seriously, grabbing his arm. “No, you don’t even get it. If I could, I’d grow a penis just so I could come all over a freckled face. I love freckles. They do things to me.”

 

Tony stared at her for a long moment, before taking her drink and sniffing it. “What the hell is in this?”

 

Darcy blinked right back at him, eyes a little glassy. Maybe what he’d thought was pity earlier, was just a buzz. “I don’t know; what do they normally put in Long Islands?”

 

“You’ve drank like four of those,” Tony pointed out, with no little awe. He’d thought she was just thirsty.

 

Darcy frowned. “Wait, you’ve been drinking normal tea? I thought we were getting business drunk!”

 

“What the hell is business drunk?”  Tony considered himself to be a connoisseur of drunkenness, but business drunk was a new one to him.

 

“Comped coworker cocktails.” Darcy shrugged, and took another sip from her grown-up tea. “That’s what Pepper calls them anyway.  She can really put it away. You would think she was a light weight, but I’ve seen her spit out flawless German after six shots of Triple Sec.”

 

“Wait...is this what you and Pep do on your ‘lunch meetings’?” Fuck knows he’d signed off on a number of expense reports for lunch meetings, when he was still heading the company.

 

“Sometimes we get pedi’s or go shopping,” Darcy admitted, catching the waiters eye and gesturing for another drink.

 

Fuck it, Tony thought, and gestured for the same. “Alright Lewis, let’s get business drunk.”

 

*

 

Tony and Darcy both woke up a day later handcuffed to a bench in Central Park. “Miss Lewis, Mr. Stark,” a cool, flat voice said over them.

 

“Who are you,” Darcy groaned, jerking her hand where it was cuffed to Tony’s. “What are you doing in my bathroom.” [JV]

 

Agent Coulson blinked down a them both. His tie hung low enough to hit Tony in the face, and if every muscle in his body wasn’t currently being chewed on by toothless bears Tony might have reached up and pulled it.

 

“His first name is Agent,” Tony slurred, lifting his head up just high enough to bite at the tie. He missed by a mile, and only managed to brain himself on the ground as he set his head back down.

 

“Phil,” Darcy replied, groggily. “Phillip. Phillian. Philistine. Philanthropist.”

 

“Philly cheese steak,” Tony offered, rolling to his side. The ground turned vertical, and the flowers were puking bees. “Philadelphia. Philippines.”

 

“Agent Coulson to base,” Agent said, from above. “Both parties found and secure. Estimated Time Of Arrival...unknown. Contact Pepper Potts, have her send a car.”

 

“Pepper,” Darcy crowded, flailing hard enough to hit Tony in the face with his own hand. “Peppy. Pepper spray. Peppercorn.”

 

“Pep rally. Pepsi. Pepto bismol.” Tony drooled into the ground. “Oh god, the dirt feels like hedgehogs.”

 

Somewhere along the line, Darcy managed the energy Tony could not, and reached up to grab Agent Coulson by the time. “Is this a threesome?” She asked, voice high and breathy.

 

Agent Coulson disentangled his tie from her fingers, even as his face turned a brilliant red. He pressed his com again. “Back up,” he bit out, slapping Darcy’s hand away once more. “Send back up.”

  
  



	2. Hair of the Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it would turn out, it isn’t Pepper who collects them off the plane. It’s Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I forgot I wrote this. It takes place before the next bit of the series, but directly after Darcy and Tony get business drunk so instead of making it a free standing part of the series, I just made it a chapter here.

As it would turn out, it isn’t Pepper who collects them from Tony's car. It’s Bruce.  He looks bemused, although besides the occasional furrow of his brow, that seems to be his resting face. “Wheat-grass?” He offers holding up a noxious looking beverage, seriously why does his car even have wheat-grass, did Bruce _ bring that with him? _

 

“Muh,” Darcy says, looking bleary eyed and...smeared. “No. No thank you.” She casts Tony a side-eye and tips her head toward the minibar. He nods, pleased to see that Happy's bothered to stock it with morning essentials. Happy is good. Happy gets a raise.  This level of hang-over can only be cured by hair of the dog that bit you.  The vibrant splash of red against the class sears his eyes; Bloody Mary, breakfast of champions. 

 

“Hmm,” Bruce says sounding for all the world both judgmental and amused all at once.

"It has vegetables," Tony argues, stirring his with a stalk of celery. 

 

Darcy snorts, dropping her celery stalk into his glass. "But it really shouldn't." 

  
***  
  
  
  


“The things I would do to that man,” Darcy says, watching Bruce leave them in the lab, his wheat grass half finished, nose buried in a book. 

 

Tony isn’t thinking when he replies, “yeah, you and me both sister.” It’s just one of those things that comes out, one of those things you think you just think but...you say.”I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.”  His mouth-to-brain filter works at about eight percent on a good day, so he isn’t really surprised. Tony coat-checked his shame at the door a very long time ago.  It’s been labeled abandoned and sent to charity by now. 

 

To her credit, Darcy only stares for a solid three point four seconds. “Right?” She says, eyebrows climbing up her forehead. “The only reason I’d kick him out of bed, would be so I could fuck him on the floor. Two words.  _ Dat ass _ .” 

 

Tony allows himself a slightly smug smirk. “I’ve seen him naked.” 

 

She makes a noise, nose wrinkling up a bit. “You know I’ve always wondered how his pants manage to make it from Bruce-to-Hulk but not Hulk-to-Bruce. Before the Superpants, anyway.” 

 

“Superpants.” Tony can’t help but snort a little. “My theory’s that he bought pants a few sizes too big with a little give to them, and belted them. They’d rip a little when he went big green, but were big enough to hold on for dear life. But when he downsized, they were all stretched out and just kind of...fell off.” 

 

Darcy nods. “You’ve put a weird amount of thought into that.” She pauses for a moment, and knocks a screwdriver off the end of the table, just to send Butterfingers scurrying after it.  Like a veritable Mary Poppins, she likes to give the children something to do. “So have you like...called dibs, or whatever?”

 

Tony’s hand freezes over the circut board he’s modulating. “I’m sorry. What?” 

 

“You know. Bro-code. Bros before hoes. Except...you know. Doctor Sexy isn't a how. So like. Sister before mister. Chicks before dicks. Or is is dicks before dicks? I don't really know the two dick equivalent here. Dick Squared. Dibs. You gonna go for it?” She shrugs her shoulders and makes the universal you-know face that involves a lot of eyebrow and head bobbing. 

 

“Uh...yeah that would be a no. One, it wouldn’t be wise to bang my fellow Butt-Kicking-Brethren, no matter how banging the booty be. Two, he hasn’t shown any inclination towards wanting the D. I can only assume he’s woefully straight.”

 

“As of five minutes ago I assumed _you_ were woefully straight,” Darcy replies. one brow raised. Tony takes a moment to marvel at her eyebrow control. It’s at Villain Levels of perfection, just one step beneath Pepper Potts.  

 

Tony shrugs. “See reason One.” 

 

“Fine.” She nods, as if they’ve struck some sort of agreement and Tony has a capital B Bad Feeling. “I’m gonna go for it.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Bruce? I’m gonna hit that. He might not be into the D, but I bet he’s into the Double D.” She points to her chest like he might have missed the innuendo. “Please feel free to enjoy the show: I have a feeling I’m going to need to bust out the big guns on this one.” She pauses, a thoughtful purse to her mouth. "On the scale of KFC, do you think he's at thigh or breast man?" 

  
  


He’s not sure what she means by that until the following week when it becomes painfully obvious. 

 

While her hemlines are on the rise, her necklines have taken a plunge, and by Friday there is very little of Darcy that Tony hasn’t seen. Bruce too, though he tries not to look. Oh how he tries, but Darcy is clever,  with her Dirty Librarian pencil skirts and ill-fitted lab coats.  And the shoes. Oh, the shoes. They're not stilettos, they're not six inches high, they don't look like they could hurt him but some how....those shoes have Pepper written all over their blood-red soles. 

 

On the scale of KFC, Bruce is too starving to care. 

 

He watches the show with a marked lack of guilt, because Darcy said he could. Darcy invited him to watch. Perhaps she did not mean he should watch the way her ass curves beneath black fabric but the lack of specificity leaves plenty of loop holes for peeping.  Bruce is at his desk, head down in a stack of old journals and files. Darcy seats herself on the corner, pushing a messy stack of manila folders out of the way to do so. She crosses her legs, but today's skirt is almost chaste in comparison of skirts-past, and barely rises over her knees.  She doesn’t wear pantyhose, like Pepper would. Not even stockings with those tremendously horrible _(Jesus Christ let me come on them_ ) garters Natalie Rushman had worn. Just her bare thighs, in all their pale, chubby glory. 

 

“Hello Darcy,” Bruce says with barely concealed suffering. Oh how he is suffering. Tony can feel the suffering from across the lab. He doesn’t look up at her, which Tony finds deeply amusing. 

 

“Doctor Sexy,” Darcy chimes, swinging her feet a little. Her shoe falls off with a clatter against the cold lab floors. They’re not Fuck Me heels, no stacked patent leather stilettos that scream overt sexuality. They’re kitten-heels, rounded at the toe with tiny little bows on them. Bows. Fucking bows. Tony wants to claws his eyes out with how bad he can't stop fucking looking at them. 

 

He lets his eyes wander in a way Bruce won’t, lets them skate up her bare legs, over her knee-length skirt, to her surprisingly demure blouse. It’s a silk thing, with pale green ruffles, buttoned up all the way to the neck, and finished with a bow for a collar.  Her ladies aren’t on display, but the buttons are straining, barely containing everything a man would want to see.  Tony gets it, gets what she’s doing, because it hits him hard in the stomach, like a fist to the gut. 

 

All week she's parading half naked through this lab, smooth expanses of soft flesh on display for any passerby.

But not today. 

 

The best way to make a man want something is to take it  _ away _ .

 

She wiggles her toes, and says oops in the most obvious tone ever. “Get that for me?” 

 

Tony watches Bruce’s mouth curl up every just so, as he leans over the arm of his chair to collect the shoe. He tries to hand it to her, but Darcy shakes her head, uncrosses her legs only to recross them the other way, so she can dangle her shoeless foot practically in his lap.  Judging by the pink stealing over Bruce’s cheeks, he just got an upskirt glimpse. Tony wonders what color her panties are. He wonders if she's wearing any at all. 

 

Bruce's hand shake as he makes to slip the shoe on, but she moves her foot with a laugh.  She does it again when he reaches for her, hooks her painted toes into the his shirt, lifting it up just so.  Darcy smirks out right when Bruce growls, and grabs her by the ankles. He’s done exactly what she wants; put his hands on her of his own free will. 

 

She plays a clever game. Clever, but not subtle. Tony can appreciate that. Her intentions are obvious. She flirts openly and without restraint. She only need lead; Bruce will follow. Only a dead man wouldn't. 

 

Once the shoe is on, and Bruce doesn’t let go right away, she slips her foot up his chest. Bruce’s hand moves up her calve.  It’s like watching porn, Tony thinks. Slow porn. Slow porn foreplay.  Her kitten-heels caught the hem of his button-up, pulled it up to reveal his stomach again. Bruce tries to pull it down, but only manages to push her foot into his lap instead.  He pins it there, cheeks burning red, and Darcy grins. Tony wonders if Bruce is hard beneath that Louboutin.  He wonders why he's hard just from watching. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get it doctor sexy!


End file.
